


Mikey. Mikey. Mikey.

by noxeir



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22526182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxeir/pseuds/noxeir
Summary: exhaustion/ɪɡˈzɔːstʃ(ə)n,ɛɡˈzɔːstʃ(ə)n/noun1.a state of extreme physical or mental tiredness.2.the action of using something up or the state of being used up.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Mikey. Mikey. Mikey.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mlrgart](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mlrgart).



Mikey.

Mikey.

Mikey.

It's far past midnight when Frank comes home to turned off lights, except for the ones in the bedroom. Gerard's sitting there, hunched over his desk, surrounded by stacks and stacks of drawings and crumpled paper. 

Frank picks one up from the floor. the paper is blotchy with tears, but Mikey's face is still recognisable. He’s painted with such care, Frank wants to cry all over again. He Looks down at the floor, noticing how every drawing is Mikey. Every drawing is a little blotchy, a little messy, a little more broken than the previous. 

One of the papers is filled with scrabbles and when Frank picks it up, everything it says is Mikey.

Mikey. 

Mikey. 

Mikey. 

Over and over again, every word messier than the last. as if Gerard broke while writing it. As if he broke all over again, staining the paper and obscuring it with his grief. 

As Frank walks closer, the drawings get messier and messier, more crumpled up and hasty. Desperate lines forming Mikey's face, capturing him perfectly, and Frank's heart aches. It aches because no matter how much Gerard draws or paints, Mikey is gone. 

No matter how many sleepless nights, how many nightmares, how many breakdowns he endures, Mikey isn't there. it's just Frank. 

Ray disappeared somewhere a couple of days after Mikey. So it's just Frank, it really is. He hopes Ray is safe though. That he has someone to talk to. He hasn't answered Frank's calls, but Frank still hopes he's okay. He worries a lot. 

He worries that Ray is angry at Gerard, that he blames Gerard just like Gerard does, that that's the reason he won't answer Frank's calls. Grief does things to you, changes you, to better or worse.

Only Frank is there to comfort the mess Gerard is, hunched over his desk, maybe sleeping, maybe drawing, maybe crying. Missing Mikey. 

Frank slowly takes the last few steps towards Gerard, laying a hand on his shoulder. He crouches down to be level with Gerard, and Gerard slowly turns his face towards him.

There are dark rings under his eyes and Franks not sure of they're stains from Gerard brushing away tears or just pure exhaustion. Probably both. 

“Bed?”

Gerard nods, and Frank carefully takes his hand, helping him up. Gerard's hands have small, red, crescent moon marks from his nails and Frank wants to kiss them better. Kiss Gerard better. He knows it won't work though. 

No matter how many kisses, how much love Frank gives, the wounds won't heal just yet. Maybe ever. He wishes they would, he wishes Gerard would at least stop torturing himself over it. It wasn't his fault, it really wasn't.

Still, still Gerard beats himself up over it. still he blames himself, devastated that he killed his brother even when he didn't. that he wasn't there for him enough, wasn't good enough for him. Isn't good enough for anyone.

Frank leads them both to the bed and they lay down, Gerard's head on Frank's chest. Frank has his arms tight around Gerard's waist, securing him while sobs shake through Gerard.

At some point Frank notices he's crying too. When did that happen? When did anything happen?

Frank doesn't know. Frank doesn't know why Mikey did what he did. Frank doesn't know, but he's determined to at least try to hold Gerard together even if the world is crumbling down around them. He’d hold Gerard through the end of the world, to infinity and beyond. 

Frank squeezes his arms around Gerard's waist and presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

Gerard's hair is greasy, Frank doesn't think he's washed it in a week, not since Mikey at least. 

Since Mikey. When did Mikey even become someone in past tense?Wwhen did Mikey even die? 

Frank doesn't actually remember. Or he does, but he doesn't want to. He wants to pretend Mikey is still there, still geeking out with Gerard, still smiling, still making stupid jokes and deadpanning at them, still being Mikey. But he isn't.

Maybe he hasn't been for some time anyways. Maybe they lost him years ago, maybe just days before. Frank doesn't know. The only reason he knows it hasn't been years or merely hours, is his journal. 

Could it even be called a journal anymore? At this point it's just Mikey. 

Mikey.

Mikey.

Mikey.

Gerard's breathing has calmed now. Frank thinks he's asleep, but he's not sure. He's not even sure if he's asleep himself. Maybe he was asleep this whole time? Maybe it's just all a huge nightmare?

Frank may wish, but he knows it isn't. He knows it isn't because Gerard would've woken him up long ago. He's had enough nightmares recently to know.

Frank's had nightmares exclusively if he's even dreamt, he doesn't dream often nowadays. But when he does, it's always Mikey. Mikey on the floor, Mikey smiling, Mikey's dead eyes, Mikey laughing, Mikey laying in the hospital bed.

Mikey.

Mikey.

Mikey.

Frank wonders if Gerard dreams the same things as he does. He wonders if that's what's making Gerard cry in his sleep. If those kinds of dreams are what's wracking Gerard's body in those few precious hours he gets. If those are what's waking him up, eyes red and puffy before the day has even started.

Frank wonders how Gerard even manages. How Gerard manages to stay sane even after his brother, after his friend. After Mikey. How he doesn't just surrender like Mikey did. 

Just surrender like Mikey.

Just take the pills like Mikey did.

Mikey.

Mikey.

Mikey.

Frank drifts off wondering, wandering into a restless sleep. He dreams of Mikey. Mikey's smile, the beep of a heart monitor, Mikey’s pokerface, pills on the floor, Mikey alive.

Mikey.

Mikey.

Mikey.

Mikey Way is gone.

Michael James Way is dead, and he took a part of his brother with him. 

Frank knows that, and he cries. He cries and cries until he fell asleep.

Exhausted.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading this 2am monster, till next time<33


End file.
